Deux, see what I did there? We're in Belgium, so, you know... French.
Anyway, when last we met, I was expounding on the joys of Tartifletta. Please don't get me started on this because I will literally not stop talking until I get some.
So, the sun was setting in Brugge. Which means it was probably 3:30 pm. That's 15:30 for my 24 hour clock friends.
When night falls in Brugge, you know it. The sun ducks behind the horizon, the merchants close up shop, and people scramble to get inside. Why? IT GETS COLDER!!!!
I'm not kidding. Bruges, (back to the US spelling) is open from 11:00 - 4:00 in the winter time, and for good reason. Fine. We hobble our way back to the Pand. What is there to do in Bruges when the shops and markets are closed? Not much.
"Let's go get something to eat." Says Momster. Now, keep in mind, I'd recently consumed not only the carb-filled offering pressed upon us on the train, but the newly found Food of the Gods (tartifletta).
We asked the concierge at the hotel if there was a place to go for a simple dinner. He recommended a local pub that serves 'basic pub food'. I had no idea what that was in the US or England, much less in Belgium. So, why not?
We make our way to a small hole in the wall called
De Belleman Pub
No kidding, this place is such a hole in the wall, it took me 30 minutes to find it on the map because I forgot to write down the name of it.
At this time, not only was the sun deciding to tuck in for the night, it was starting to sprinkle. Ahh, blessed refuge.
The inside of the Bellemen, is pretty much everything you want in a pub. It had a bar, some booths, some tables and over in the corner, a pool table. We were early and pretty much the only people in the place. That was fine by me, although I wouldn't have minded checking out some of the local evening rituals. Instead, we looked at the drinks menu.
Now, I can find my way around a French menu, and to a certain extant, a Flemish one. What I don't know is beer. And what else is Belgium known for besides Chocolate and terror attacks? Beer. So, when in Bruges, do what the Brugians (?) do. I looked down the menu and chose Robijn Rood. Why? I liked the name. Ediebaby got rum and diet Pepsi.
To say I was not prepared for what I got was an understatement. I was now faced with consuming a fishbowl of beer. Nasty, nasty beer. I don't like beer anyway, but this... this was ridiculous.
Here's what I looked like drinking it. Momster enjoyed every single second of my discomfiture. No surprise there. Along with the horrific beverage, we chose to order the house specials. These were the Lasagna and the Vegetables. Vegetables sounded wonderful to me after eating all of the carbs and cheese the last few days. I was looking forward to nice stewed or steamed or even crunchy veggies. I was sadly mistaken.
What it was was veggies and pasta, in a white cream sauce covered in cheese. With bread. Sigh. To this day I can't fathom how these people have existed through the millennia. According to modern nutrition, the entire population should have been wiped out before the Plague.
The dinner was pretty pleasant, despite the heaviness of the meal. I suppose when you live that close to the Arctic Circle, you need the extra poundage. Living in L.A., not so much.
Here are a couple of other pics of the pub, in case you were interested.
Not a bad place at all. At least it was a pleasant way to pass a chilly, drizzly evening.After consuming our (arguably) meager repast, we hobbled (Momster) and shivered (me) the four blocks back to the hotel. We took our time with our meal, so it was about 7:00 by the time we got to the hotel. It felt a lot later. There was no television in the room, so we didn't have much to do but Skype home, read and sleep. So that's what we did. As the jet lag was still lingering, it wasn't as hard to do as you would imagine.
Tomorrow was to be a full day in Bruges. Things to do and peoples to ogle.
